


Don't worry, I'll tighten my belt

by OftenWrongSoong



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Food, Freeform, Heavy on the Metaphors, M/M, Pining, Poetry, Praise, Prose Poem, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-04 00:33:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20462090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OftenWrongSoong/pseuds/OftenWrongSoong
Summary: I'm famished, love, can't you see? I know I've got one hand over my mouth and one around my throat, but I'm sure you can slip in past my fingers.Can't you?





	Don't worry, I'll tighten my belt

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).

Today, I dined on the crumbs that fell from your mouth while you ate.

It's not your fault. You don't know how hungry I am. (You might know)

(I think you might be hungry too.)

(I'm not sure.)

You ask, what do you want, and I answer I'm fine, not hungry (I'm ravenous)

And then I sit and watch and wait, dog under table, salivating, Pavlovian response to you.

Today, over dinner, I had a shred of kindness, a sliver of care, a morsel of respect, a pinch of desire.

'My dear,' 'Of course!', 'Thank you.' 'Oh, you!'.

I can survive on this.

I'm starving to death.

There's a hollow behind my ribs (It's not my stomach)

Feed me, fill me, empty-bellied yellow-eyed wolf-pup, from your mouth

Let me quench my thirst on the dampness I see in your eyes, dew on aster, rain-cloud eyes

You could replete me with three words, you know, if you wanted to (I think you might want to)

There are apples that bloom on your cheeks when you look at me, sometimes, sometimes

Blush pink, soft and sweet, rosy

I can almost survive just on those, without them ever touching my lips.

(I want them on my lips.)

My hands are cold, frozen bones

It's always cold down here, 444.6 °C

(It was cold before, void cold, vacuum) (I didn't know you then)

Sunlight face, sun-beam smile, sun-stuff you

The brush of your fingertips is almost enough to thaw

(1941, 1967) (It's not enough)

Too cold for you, I know, my frost fingers, cold enough to scorch you

I would freeze you solid, sun-thing soft you, to your core, burn you to death with cold

(Touch my hand, hyperborean corpse hand, it's right there on the table, by my empty plate, between the first course 'My dear' and the amuse bouche 'Thank you'.)

I don't think you know that I could open your mouth with mine and devour the words from your throat.

(I think you might know.)

(I think you might want me to.)

(I don't want to.)

They taste better when they fall idly, did you know that? Hourglass-sand, grain by grain, into my waiting lips

You don't know. (You might know)

Too-sharp teeth, too cold smile (Lips so cold they crack)

Can't you hear me creaking, ice-breaker, ice-axe, ice-pick you?

Ice-screw, piton, crampon (you'll need your warm gloves)

Climb in behind my frozen chest and huddle there, I'll wrap you in furs, I swear, it's not so bad once you get used to it. (It's so cold, my love, you'll die from it, and all I'll have will be your boots sticking out from the snow. I'll put a flag in your corpse, use you as a marker, here and no further, beyond this is nothing, you'll fall off the edge)

Don't slip, dear, mind your footing

You know how treacherous the lake is at this time of year (The ice is thin, come on in, I'll drown you, get your skates on)

Come back to mine, it's cold there, you'll like it (you won't like it)

(I don't like it)

It's warm in here, is it too warm? Take your jacket off (Take everything off, scandalized, watch how quickly the skin goes pink then white then blue then black)

Endothermic me, I'll drive you mad with cold. (You'll run out into the blizzard of me, stumble into the drifts of me, scorch yourself to death and burn away to bones)

I'll keep you, you know, if I can. Hoard you, serpent-me, coil around my treasure, golden-thing, bright platinum-you, diamond shining you.

I'm jealous. (Have you seen the way the waiter looks at you? I'll tear his eyes out.)

You don't get jealous (Do you covet me? I think you might.)

'Lovely' is my dessert, you dab your mouth and brush the speck of it from your lip and it tumbles down my gullet.

I wait until you stand to leave, wait until your back is turned. The napkin is mine now (How dare it touch your mouth!) the fork that passed your lips, (I saw the flesh of you press around the tines, I'll press the tines against my flesh) the knife, champagne flute, wine glass (The temerity of these objects, to keep your fingerprints, how dare they, arrogant inanimates, he's mine, you can't have him)

I'll take them home and add them to the others (The oldest one is clay, riverbank mud thing, not even glazed) (I kept every one, I'll never tell you) (You might already know)

It's enough, I can survive on this, I won't starve to death, not today.

I leave hungry.


End file.
